


live long and prosper

by The_Wavesinger



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/pseuds/The_Wavesinger
Summary: Natasha lives; everything and nothing changes.





	live long and prosper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SinginInTheRaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinginInTheRaine/gifts).

Steve meets Natasha’s eyes across the room, and he can tell they’re both thinking the same thing. Five long years, and maybe, finally, a chance. A little bit of hope.

She’s smiling, and her smile is wide and real, her head thrown back with abandon. He hasn’t seen her smile like that since—since, he can’t even remember. When they were on the run together, probably, and that was a lifetime ago, but she’s smiling again, and her entire face is different, lit up, joyful, younger.

She’s beautiful, and Steve thinks that afterwards—maybe.

Maybe.

They might have a chance.

—

“I wish I could come with you,” Steve tells Natasha, when they’re alone.

Natasha runs her fingers along steel grey walls, an absent-minded motion. Her nails drag against concrete, and it can’t be a pleasant feeling. “No you really don’t.”

She won’t meet Steve’s eyes. It’s— “Is everything alright?”

“I wish—” Natasha cuts herself off. “I just have a bad feeling about this, that’s all.”

“Hey.” Steve places a hand on her shoulder, light, barely there, a reminder. “It’s going to be alright.” Then, “What have we got to be afraid of, losing?”

Natasha laughs. “I guess you’re right.”

—

When Natasha comes back, her face is drawn and tight, an expression achingly familiar from years ago, before Steve really knew her, from the reflection flickering next to Fury’s face in the glass of the viewing room.

Even before his eyes skip over to the empty space next to her, he knows.

She falls to her knees, the amber of the Soul Stone flickering in her hand, and the devastation in her face is—

Hawkeye is _gone_. Something happened on Vormir, and Clint is gone, and.

His thoughts splinter and fragment into a million pieces. He can’t think about it.

—

“It should have been me,” Natasha doesn’t say. “I tried to make it me.”

She doesn’t say it, but Steve knows her. Can see the way she’s clutching the wooden, how she’s staring at the murky grey-green water, her mind still far away.

“You have nothing to be guilty about,” he wants to tell her. And, selfishly, “I’m glad it wasn’t you.” (Because he knows Clint, Clint is—was—his _team_, and losing him is devastating and horrible and a tragedy, but Natasha—if he lost Natasha. Well. He’s selfish, and he’s glad that in this universe, Natasha came back.)

—

“We’re going to win this for Clint,” Natasha says. “His death isn’t going to be in vain.” Her eyes are steely, fierce determination shining through.

She pushes herself up off the dock and strides forward and towards the Avengers compound. Her chin is raised and her hands are clenched into fists. She’s still cradling the Soul Stone in her gloved hands (the rest are locked away, but Natasha won’t let go), and its glow is reflected in her face. “We’re the Avengers. We’ll avenge Clint and every other damn person Thanos killed.”

The push is enough. They get to work.

—

Bruce is howling in agony, and they’re hurrying to help him, and Steve steps back as soon as Bruce is steady because he knows where he’ll be a hindrance, and—

A phone is ringing. He looks down, automatically, towards the sound. And the face on the caller ID isn’t anyone he knows. _Laura_.

A split-second of realization. He thinks, _Natasha_, but before he can do anything Natasha is by his side, in a flash, snatching up the phone.

There are tears on her cheek, but when she picks up the phone and says, “Laura? It’s Natasha,” her voice doesn’t tremble.

—

There’s so much to do, afterwards.

Tony is—

No. He won’t think about Tony. Can’t think about Tony. Not now, when they’re still on a battlefield. When Natasha isn’t here, when he hasn’t seen her since the Avengers compound exploded on top of them.

He looks, and looks, and he can’t find her, she’s not _there_. Someone must have seen her, someone must have fought side-by-side with her, but everyone is still in shock, dazed expressions on their faces, and she’s probably there, she’s just lost.

Steve takes a deep breath. She’s alive. She has to be. He’ll find her.

—

“Steve!”

A voice, and Steve turns. A voice so intensely familiar—

He knows he’s bringing up clouds of rust-red dust as he runs to Natasha, but he doesn’t care. She’s still there, she’s still alive, and then she’s launching herself into Steve’s arms. They’re not hugging people, not really, not usually. But these aren’t usual circumstances. Steve holds onto her tightly, buries his face in her hair, breathes in her scent.

“You’re alive,” Natasha says. Her voice is shaky. “I thought—you’re _alive_.” Her fingers dig into Steve’s back even through body armour.

“We’re alive,” Steve whispers, his voice breaking.

—

Someone makes funeral arrangements.

He doesn’t know who does it. He and Natasha are trying to sort through the chaos of what seems like every single world leader (including the ones who were un-Snapped, and Steve is really glad he’s not the one who has to sort that mess out) demanding answers and explanations. But someone organizes a funeral, and Pepper calls them, personally.

“I don’t want it to be real,” Steve admits to Natasha once he’s put down his phone, assuring Pepper of course they’d be there. “I keep imagining—”

Natasha squeezes his hand. “I know. Me too.”

—

After the funeral, the two of them sit together on the grass and stare out at the water lapping muddy shores.

There’s so much to do. They have a plan to put the Stones back, but even other than that, there’s so much to do.

“I’m tired,” Steve admits. “I think…maybe it’s time to stop the superhero business. Settle down somewhere. Get house, maybe a dog.”

“Maybe,” Natasha says slowly, tentatively, “if there’ll be room in that house of yours, I might retire too.” She lays her head on his shoulder in a jerky motion. “Some peace would be nice.”

—

“Come back,” Natasha says.

Steve kisses her lightly on the cheek, turns to go.

Natasha grabs his wrist, stopping him mid-step. Her eyes are bright with worry. “Steve. Promise me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Steve tells her. Then, because she knows why she worries (Clint, still, the wound running deep), “I promise. I’ll come back.” (In another life, maybe—but in this life, they have each other. That’s enough.)

She kisses him. A proper thorough kiss, a goodbye and a confession. Then she pushes him lightly towards the platform.

He kisses her one last time. “I’ll be back.”

—

It’s been ten seconds, and a year, and a lifetime. He falls to his knees, panting, his fingers scrabbling at wet earth, clutching at blades of grass. His head spins.

“Steve?” Natasha is kneeling over him. Her eyes are concerned, and the tip of her braid brushes his face as she hovers. “Are you all right?”

She’s exactly the person she was when he left, and he feels his breath catch in his throat. “I’ll be fine. But I’m never doing that again.”

She smiles down at him, kisses his forehead.

_I’m home_, Steve thinks. It feels like a beginning.


End file.
